Warning: This post is not for the faint of heart as it discusses a topic of cutting and blood. If you can’t stomach such a topic, please do not read. You have been warned.
I’ve been in a dark space lately. I go through these phases and they just gradually grow worse and worse the more my need goes unattended. My mind is constantly deep in thought when it’s not focused on the current task at hand. It has led to me having a very bad bout of insomnia and my mind feels as if it’s diminishing every sleepless night.
Someone (Daemon) suggested I write about razors and while I feel he is the true master at this topic it did spur some thought processes as I was soaking in the tub during another insomniac trance.
When I was very young I took my dad’s razor refill box. I was fascinated with razors at a young age and also with the thorns on rose bushes that grew abundantly in the back yard. One afternoon I took my dad’s razors and tucked them away in my pocket. I was a thief, a liar and a cheat at a very young age and it was all for survival. Having a shiny and sharp treasure in my pocket was the best thing and when I was alone I would sneak the box out and stare at the razors hidden inside. I knew they were sharp. I knew they were dangerous. I knew they would draw blood.
My own blood and cuts never caused me fear. It was a fascination to watch the bright red bead from my skin, as I would suck the wound for comfort. Watching the fresh cut pull open exposing layers of skin and flesh inside. It wasn’t sexual back then but it was intrigue and comfort watching the cut heal over the course of days. Picking the scabs to make it bleed again and sometimes I would scar up. My body is riddled with scars. Some self inflicted, some accidental and quite a few medically needed. When I injured myself, I didn’t run to my parents for comfort, in fact, I hid the wounds from them.
The night I stole my dad’s razor refills I slept with them in my hand like a doll. It was comforting. When I awoke the next morning I found dried blood and cuts on my hands and arms. A razor had slipped from the refill box and danced on my skin during the night. Yet, the only panic I felt was my parents knowing I had taken the razors. I saw a blade on my sheet stained with my blood lying there innocently and another blade trying to free itself from the box. I washed my hands and the water stung the open wounds but it was all a rush for me watching the blood and water swirl down the sink to be long forgotten. I threw the rouge razor blade away and put the razor box back in the medicine cabinet.
Fast forward to my late twenties and I’m still innocent to the extent of sexual behaviors. My thoughts were always dark but it was a morbid dark and I had yet to transfer this darkness into a sexual manner. I was not aware of people using sharp objects for sexual pleasure. My first mental exposure was with V (you will need to dig to the older posts) and reading about someone’s experiences was with Daemon. Daemon’s blog is not for the faint of heart. He is raw, honest and the most sadistic man I have ever encountered in my years of keeping this blog. Reading Daemon’s blog opened a dark world to me and even more it caused a deep arousal that caused countless masturbation sessions over the years he maintained the blog. It was connecting all the dots and truly seeing the darkness.
My desire for shiny sharp objects grew and grew over the years: razor blades, knives, scissors, scalpels and a personal love for straight razors. I dream of someone I can trust to carve my skin with skill, experience and creativity. To draw my blood, hear my gasps and cries and yet arousal streaming from my mouth. Tending to my wounds, fucking me and reopening fresh wounds. Fucking the next day to reopen old wounds. Breaking me and putting me back together. It’s the ultimate sexual interaction for me. Cutting myself is not the same. I know what’s coming. I have to fix myself and I’m tired of fixing myself. For once, I want someone to take a true charge of my body and mind and fix me for just one moment. That one moment I can just let go.
That sense of balance.
That sense of comfort.
That sense of, I’m alive.
In the meantime to curb some of this I have pierced, stretched my ears and sat for hours of tattooing. It gives me a rush to have the pain and watch it heal over the days and weeks. It’s a sense of meditation for me to get a tattoo. I sit there and savor the pain. Sometimes I get to see the blood bead from my skin as the needle penetrates me over and over. The wiping of my blood and ink mixed together. The scratched burn afterwards. It’s near perfection sans an orgasm.
I have found my interactions with various lovers is this; I bring out the worst in a man/woman. I am the enabler of dark desires. I will take a boundary and go beyond it because I can and they don’t stop me. They don’t want to. I’m the devil that hangs on your shoulder telling you to do it because we are here to live and not indulging in this one moment may never happen again. Just do it. I’m dangerous. I’m destructive. I’m immoral. I have no shame. I harbor no regrets. People uncomfortably laugh at my claims but that’s because they have not seen me for what I am. It’s denial because they don’t want to think that my seemingly nice demeanor couldn’t possibly have a menacing side. It does. I wear a mask and sometimes the mask slips. Sometimes I scare people. Sometimes I make people nervous. Sometimes people fade away. I won’t apologize for this. I refuse. Life is far too short to dwell on my childhood misfortunes or trying to figure out why I am like this.
I follow this simple motto and have been doing so since a teenager who survived a failed attempt at killing myself:
I WANT TO LIVE.
The Good Girl
I don’t know how many times I have said I would love to fuck myself but it’s true.
I love sex with women but I have found that women are in fact difficult, far too much drama and silliness than it’s worth. I know why men put up with the nonsense but I just find myself walking away most times. Which led to me just wanting to fuck myself and by that meaning, I would love for once to find a woman just like me or be able to clone myself, so I could fuck her.
I don’t want any games.
I don’t want any drama.
I don’t want any emotions.
I. Just. Want. To. Fuck.
All I can focus on is the moment we are behind closed doors together. I am aggressive with women, which makes her aggressive as well. This doesn’t make for sensual pleasantries. No, in fact, this makes for a fight for who is on top. I would straddle her grabbing her face to kiss her while her hands are pulling at my shirt to remove it to get at my breasts. My right hand grabs a large handful of her hair as I yank her head back so I can get at her neck and ears. This is when she is limp and the fighting stops. I know her weakness. I know what her kryptonite is and I was the first to get there.
“You think you are going to top me little girl?” I whisper in her ear and letting my tongue trail down her jugular. She gasps as her body is quaking beneath me. It’s when I bite down on her porcelain flesh that she lets out a loud moan from her full lips.
“Tell me you are mine.” I hiss in her ear. She grunts and is speechless. Her cunt is thrusting up and I know what she wants. I grab her hair tighter and throwing her head back even further.
“Little cunt, tell me you are mine.” I am now snarling into her ear. My left hand is groping at her breast and I won’t let her cunt grind against me.
“I-I-I…” She attempts to say but her body has fallen victim to her weakness and I know this all too well. My hand lets go of her hair, wraps around her throat and I know she is going to come when I squeeze.
“Tell me baby and I’ll fuck you good. Tell me you are mine.” I soothe into her ear as I let go of her throat and let me hand trail lazily down, down, down towards her cunt that has soaked through her jeans. “This is what you want, right?” I barely touch between her legs to feel the wetness and she is shuddering near an orgasm.
“Yes!” She blurts out as her legs shake violently. “Please!” She begs. “I’m yours! I’m yours!” I can tell she feels defeat and her pride has been shoved into the wetness between her legs but I am certain she won’t regret her decision to give in.
“Good girl.” I sweetly whisper into her ear as my hand shoves down her jeans, down her panties, right into the folds of her cunt, I shove two fingers into her tightness and curl. The wetness floods my fingers and she is moaning and cursing at the world.
“FUCK!” She yells as I curl and rub her g-spot and I know she is helpless. Her jeans are soaking down to her knees and the gushing is not stopping as every muscle in her body has seized to the invasion of my fingers.
My hand pulls from her cunt and out. I stare at the tears streaming from her face and the hair sticking to her face. Her eyes are closed and her lips are quivering. Her hands have gripped the blanket till her knuckles turned white. She was lost and I know she wants more.
I pull her shirt and bra off. She unbuttons her jeans, slides everything down and kicks the jeans and panties from her legs. My mouth latches to her nipple and I bite down. She whimpers and cries out in pain but her thighs are telling me otherwise. My hand pushes her milky stems apart as I circle her throbbing clit. I suck and bite. I want to leave a mark and I want it to last. She lets out a mix of gasps and moans and her body is already tensing as I continue to rub her clit harder and faster. She is pressing her cunt against my fingers and I am biting her nipple between my teeth. She is going to come when her thighs clamp tightly back together.
“I-I-I’m gonna come.” She says breathlessly and I rub harder and faster. Right when she is peaking, I suck her nipple in my mouth and bite and she is screaming at the world again. “FUUUUUUCCCKKKKK!” She yells up at the ceiling.
My mouth lets her tit go and I watch her curl into a ball of mush. She is crying again and I know what that means. I know she has a flood of emotions coming to the front of her mind and she is overwhelmed. Before I let her marinate in the aftershocks of her orgasm I push down her body, spread her locked legs wide and she is begging me to stop.
“Remember, you’re mine.” I sternly look into her eyes. I knew she wanted it because her thighs parted too easily and her cunt pushed upward as I spoke into her mound. She always wants more. She never can get enough.
Just to assert myself with her I bite her inner thigh. She yelps and cries out grabbing the sheets and pulling them from the mattress. I push her thighs wide and I shove my face into her soaked cunt. She tastes sweet and familiar. I tongue at her clit and I tongue at her tightness. I shove in two fingers as I suck her hard clit and she is already bucking against my face. She can’t help herself as she grabs my head and shoves her cunt against my mouth. I near suffocate as she comes grinding against my tongue and lips and my fingers are soaked with her come. She is an orgasmic pile of mess on the bed as I pull my fingers out and move myself to her eye level. I shove my fingers into her mouth as she sucks hungrily. My lips nestle next to her ear and I whisper, “You’re a good girl.” Her eyes are dreamy and close as she bites gently on my fingers.
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An Open Letter To Future Female Lover
Dear Future Female Lover,
You might find my social and sexual aggressiveness intriguing and even seductive but I will say this to you… when it comes to women, I am one sadistic bitch. I want your blood, sweat and tears.
I like marks.
I like to leave marks.
I like to leave marks on your flesh.
I’m not a fan of drama unless you are whispering it to me in my ear while I have three fingers deep in your cunt. I’m not your best friend, I’m your lover so don’t expect me to listen to your troubles without paying a hefty price.
Your demise is my pleasure. I want to hear you beg. See you quiver. Feel your arousal. I promise a safe word but I guarantee we won’t stop till you scream it from your pretty lips. I want to destroy something beautiful and make you mine forever.
I will creep into your mind like a virus. I know how to fuck minds and especially yours. The virus will turn into a plague and you can’t help but wonder about what I would do to you. Do you have the stamina and strength to take me on?
Don’t talk a lot. If anything don’t talk at all. The only sounds I want to hear from you are whimpers and moans. Yes, please curse because that lets me know I’m hitting the right spot. If you talk too much, I will silence you. If you move too much, I will tie you. If you even think of asking me to do something, I will punish you.
I want to fuck you till your eyes roll back. I want to lick you till you speak gibberish. I want to inflict pain upon you till your body convulses.
I expect to use all three of your holes so do not deny me. I will use toys so accept me. I will use words so listen to me.
I have this fascination for blood and I am not lying when I said I wanted your blood. I expect you to let me draw the very life from your body. I love the taste and sight of the crimson red that beads from a fresh cut. If you can’t handle it then I suggest you find someone else.
This is not really about me so don’t expect to get me off unless I allow you. You are a toy; a plaything and I want to play. Seeing you writhe in pain and ecstasy is what gets me off more than a cheap orgasm. Your undying submission to me is the ultimate orgasm.
I love fleshy women. I want something to hold on to. Don’t give me skin and bones. I need something to grab, bruise and bite. Most of all, I want your mind. I want to take you to a dark place so you will know where I thrive.
I love lips and I love kissing. Be masterful in the art of kissing because I expect your skilled lips against mine.
Be a tease.
Let me choke you. Let me hurt you. Let me leave you in a quivering orgasmic mess. I promise you it will be an experience you won’t forget.
I will fuck your mind and I will fuck your body.
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Death Part 4 (conclusion)
WARNING: the following is a Deviant Dreams post, read at your own risk. You can read part 1 here: Death (a snippet) and part 2 here: Death Part 2 and part 3 here: Death Part 3.
I grinned at his response and attempts at control himself. His body was tense. His cock strained against the air and my face was inches from it. I am sure he could feel me breath on it as I breathed. His chest quivered.
“Sooo pet,” I said with extra breath and watched his cock twitch and sway, twitch and sway. He sucked in a deep breath.
“I’m hooorrny.” I said with more breath as I came within an inch of his cock.
“Fuck Grace!” He blurted out and caught himself too late. His body was still.
“Problem pet?” I asked with my lips touching his cock.
“N-n-no… Grace,” he heaved from his throat.
My lips rested against the underneath of his cock near the head. My tongue slowly slipped out to barely touch his skin. I pulled my tongue back in and chuckled throwing my head back.
“You baby, are so much fun to torment,” I said with a sigh.
I slipped my body up his thigh, pressing my cunt against the meeting of his thighs. He let out an audible gasp. His cock did all the talking to his arousal. The pre-cum was now spilling down his cock with slow ooze. I pushed my cunt again and rubbed a little back and forth. He groaned and yet behaved himself as instructed. My nails started to dig into his chest. I felt wild. I felt fierce. I wanted to destroy him with sex and domination. I wanted to keep him all to myself and not let anyone else have at his submission but me. It was that “if I can’t have you, no one will” mentality. My nails broke the top layer of skin. He hissed and yet his cock strained.
“You are making me hot pet. I. Could. Fuck. You.” I said rubbing my cunt harder against his flesh.
“Please…Grace,” he sounded desperate, helpless and almost hopeless.
“How long was it this time baby?” I asked as I pulled my cunt away and grabbed his balls. His body jerked with surprise and he forced himself back against the bed staring the ceiling.
“Ung. Uh, a month Grace.” He stammered out.
“A month? My, my that’s a long time.” I said squeezing his balls harder till they were deep red.
He let out a cry in pain and his eyes bulged and yet his cock still strained. He didn’t want it to stop. No, he loved the attention I gave him because it was from me. This was more important than being left alone in my closet and neglected like a houseplant.
My body inched up more and my nails found a fresh spot on his chest to dig into. He had 8 little half moon scratches and now he was about to have 8 more. My cunt nudged his hot balls and he sucked in a lung full of air.
“Don’t get eager pet,” I sternly said.
“N-never, Grace,” he pushed out through the shudder of his body. His hands gripped the comforter on the bed. His knuckles were white and his forehead was damp.
My cunt nudged his balls again. I started to rub against him slow and calculated. I was wet and I wanted to fuck him. His cock looked like it would explode. He was breathing with a jagged breath. This is a scene we had played many times but not with such a time lapse between play. He was more than overdue.
“Want it pet?” I asked in a real low tone, almost a growl.
His chest heaved, “Yes, Grace,” he hissed between gritted teeth.
My nails found a new spot to add 8 more half moons on his chest. I moved my cunt slowly up against the shaft of his cock. He started to groan.
“Can you feel how wet I am pet?” I asked near moaning. My clit was hard and I was on edge myself. It had been too long.
“Fuck, yes, Grace” he growled.
I bit my lower lip as I climbed and my cunt was touching the head of his wet cock. I could not bear it any longer and pushed all the down engulfing his cock. His head pushed back and he gripped the comforter and pulled it up. He let out a deep and loud groan. My nails scratched along his chest in a downward angle creating bright pink roads to his stomach. His eyes were shut tight as I fucked him with no abandon. I was on a mission and I wanted to come. He was on a mission and that was not to come before told.
I rode him like a toy and he lay there motionless besides the twitching of his body or the heaving of his chest. This is what he wanted; his cock buried into my cunt. I felt my body climb. I was getting high and a sense of urgency was building. My nails dug into hallow of his stomach and as my body was about to peak I was drawing small amount of blood. He knew I was almost there.
My hands slowly moved upward and wrapped tightly around his neck. His eyes popped open but all he could see was the ceiling. I started to squeeze my grip as my body slowed it’s pace; almost there. I continued to push my weight into his neck. His hands still gripped the comforter. He didn’t fight me nor push me off him. I watched the colors change in his face. His eyes well up and bulge. His hands still stayed at his side.
“Is tonight the night?” I ask with every ounce of effort.
No response from him. His mouth was gaping for air. Soon he would black out and it would be up to me to end it. I had the power and the control. Everything slowed down to a crawl. I could feel his pulse beating in his jugular against my fingers. It was starting to slow. His was now a deep purple to blue. Yet, his cock remained hard in my cunt. I still fucked him slow as I teetered on the edge of my orgasm.
As I came I lost all control. My hands were still planted around his neck and I pushed down as I road out the long orgasm which led to another and another. His body started to spasm beneath me and I could feel his cock milking into my cunt. By now he was unconscious as I hammered at his body with my own. He was going.
When my wave of orgasms subsided I sat there on top of him staring down at him. My eyes welled up with tears. They streamed down my face before my lungs could react. I slowly moved my hands from his neck that was now heavily bruised. His eyes were empty and open still staring at the ceiling. His skin was pale and blue. It was nothing like the movies. Hollywood made death look too good or too grim. He was the empty shell of a human.
I pressed my head on his chest and listened. Nothing. My hand covered over my mouth as I cried into his chest. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him but he wasn’t there any longer. He was gone.
“I love you,” was all I could whisper from my lips into his chest.
Slowly, I slipped from on top of him. Quietly, I put my clothes back on. Carefully, I slipped the heels back on to my feet.
I grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter.
I opened the front door. Stepped out and started to close the door. At the last inch I hesitated and let out a small sigh as I focused on the small gape. I closed my eyes, wiped my face and shut the door all the way and locked it.
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WARNING: the following is a Deviant Dreams post, read at your own risk.
She was lying on the ground huffing through her wet panties that I had shoved inside of her mouth. A bright red hand print was glowing under her tears. Helpless, she laid beneath me completely stripped of clothing and shaking. I lost my patience with her begging for forgiveness for coming without permission. The one rule that makes me venomous: don’t come without permission, a rather simple and easy rule to follow. However, when you tell a slut to abide by such a rule it turns into a fatal challenge. Tonight she lost the battle.
“I expect you to make this up to me.” I calmly said after I counted to ten in my head after slapping her square across the face. I straddled her legs closed hovering above her to stare into her face.
She whimpered through the black lacy panties in her mouth and nodded her head up and down. Her lips were trembling and the tears were staining her pretty white flesh. The red lipstick that she put on heavily had smeared and blended with the hand print, the mascara was starting to bleed and she still looked beautiful to me.
My face closed in on hers as I could feel the heat of my slap radiating from her cheek. I licked a stream of tears up to the corner of her eye. The whimpering started to taper and I place my lips near her ear.
“I want you to stop crying and pull yourself together my fuck doll. I want you well aware of what I am about to do to you. It is about time we make this union more official. I am going to mark you my love.” I whispered into her ear with grave seduction. I could feel her cunt press upward towards my core. I gave a throaty laugh. “Well, there is no objection and after this, no safe word for you to blurt out.”
I moved off of her to fetch my pretty shiny tools from the drawer in my room as I left her lying on the ground like a discarded object. When I returned she was exactly where I had left her. She hadn’t moved an inch. I wondered if fear was riddling her blood as she was mentally preparing for what I was about to do to her.
“Spread your legs,” I said when I reached her feet.
Her legs quickly spread for me revealing the dildo still lodged inside of her bare cunt. I sat between her open legs.
“I wonder when you became such a slut. I even wonder more at what point you decided you were going to just give in to me.” I opened the slender box and pulled my scalpel out.
She looked at me with such content and I gave her the look of love and passion. I have always wanted her and to have her was quite a prize for my patience of playing the game of cat and mouse with her.
My eyes moved back to her sopping wet cunt and her clit was still engorged. A grin formed, she wanted this and hasn’t backed down one bit. She knew if she didn’t want this she could have pulled the panties from her mouth and left me. I never restrained my sluts because I insisted on 100% obedience from them. There was essentially always a way out but that also meant the union would be dissolved.
I bent down, watched her flat stomach concave and her ribs push out. I smelled her sex and flicked her clit with my tongue. Her body convulsed and her skin started to crawl with goose bumps. I tore the alcohol prep from its packaging and starred down at her hairless cunt. I focused on my new blank canvas looking for the right spot. I rubbed the cool, smelly cloth on the right side of her cunt below the pelvic bone. Her body jerked at the sudden sensation as her head was propped up watching me work.
Steady, the scalpel was poised in my hand. Curved cuts are never fun to do in flesh since it has to be done in one consistent stroke. I knew she wanted this as she anxiously watched me. I didn’t have to ask her, I didn’t need her permission to mark her. We have talked about it over and over prior to this moment. She just never knew when it would happen.
“Stay still, you know I have to do part of this in one stroke.”
She nodded her head up and down as she attempted to calm herself, trying to prepare mentally for what was about to happen. My eyes bore into hers one last time and then I focused on my task at hand…carving a “G” into my property.
As the tip kissed her skin she breathed in and I started the beginnings of the “G”. I was accurate, quick and ached when I watched the crimson red blood seep from her fresh wound. I let her catch her breath before I made the last stroke.
“Alll-most done,” as I made the last cut.
I knew it wasn’t sanitary but I had to lick her, had to clean her wound with my tongue. I bent down catching the droplets of blood that has run away from their doorway. I licked upward tasting her sweet life on my tongue. She bucked against my tongue and hissed when I reached her “G”. When my tongue broke away from her flesh I savored her blood and swallowed her inside of me. Immediately I broke open another wipe, cleaned her up and dressed her wound. The last thing I wanted was my doll to get ugly with infection and disease.
My eyes shifted to her cunt as I saw how wet she had become since I started this ritual. I pushed in my middle finger and heard a groan in her throat then pushed in another finger, this time she yelped. I curled my fingers inside of her searching for her spot, that spot that would make her gush around my flesh. She writhed like a slut dying with lust.
“You are so beautiful when you are addicted.”
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